


Read Between the Lines

by QuagmireMarch



Series: The Care and Taming of a Wild Russian Pakhan [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BAMF Yuuri, M/M, Mafia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuagmireMarch/pseuds/QuagmireMarch
Summary: Companion piece to "Read You Right"
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: The Care and Taming of a Wild Russian Pakhan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987039
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Read Between the Lines

Yuuri expected getting into the Pakhan’s private rooms to be difficult. Not impossible, not for him, but a challenge. And the time between entering the conclave and getting to the main house met those expectations. Lots of guards, dogs, cameras. It took effort to avoid them all without engaging.

Normally, he’d have just killed whoever he needed to, but Yuuri wanted Victor safe. Thinning the Bratva’s numbers went counter to that. Still, he’d made some pointed mental notes on work ethic and proper security he’d be sharing with the Pakhan later.

Once he reached the house itself, Yuuri circled, looking for the best way in for the least amount of potential mayhem. He’d locked on to a third story window, balcony small but conveniently close to a tree that really should have been cut back. Another note for Victor.

Then the front door opened and Yuuri saw the figure of Christophe Giacometti, suit a color somewhere between purple and navy that should have looked ridiculous, but worked well for the man. He held a phone out like a white flag of surrender. Bright orange, embossed with a golden hamster.

Only a handful of people earned a direct line to Phichit. Yuuri moved fast, stepped out of hiding, a maneuver that left him right behind Chris. In the man’s ear he whispered, “Nice phone.”  
  
  
Chris jumped, spun around. To his credit he remained startled less than a second, all business and slow flirtatious grin when he spoke. “Thanks. Arrived today. I get to keep it as long as I let you into Victor’s room.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “You’d sell your boss out for that?”

“No.” Chris grinned. “Peaches promised you meant no harm, and given all my security people have been accounted for, I’m inclined to believe him.” He paused, looked Yuuri up and down. “I understand now why Vitya’s been so desperate for information on you. Don’t suppose you’d give me a name, maybe a contact number?”

A cold smirk curled at Yuuri’s lips. “No.”  
  
“Well, you can’t blame a fellow for trying. Second floor, double doors at the end of the hall. You need a key?”

Yuuri laughed, short and sharp. He’d excelled at a lot of elements of his training, but Mari’d been the one who could whisper locks open like magic. He usually just ended up shooting them. Saved time and frustration. “Depends. You want to have to replace the locks?”  
  
“I do not.” Chris took a small gold key from around his neck. “He’ll be back in an hour.”  
  
“Good to know.”   
  
##

Victor’s room looked like something out of a bad Regency romance. Enormous four-poster bed with heavy red and gold embroidered curtains tied back with golden ropes. With tassels. Who the fuck still had tassels in their house? Matching carpets, the colors inverted from the curtains, a dark leather couch and rich, oak furniture, a desk, armoire, dresser, that all looked solid enough to withstand being hit by a tank.

And bookcases. So many bookcases. The books didn’t fit with the rest of the space. They should have been thick leather tomes, even and matched. Instead, everything from trashy romance paperbacks and graphic novels to a beautifully illuminated and gold-leafed edition of the Complete Works of Shakespeare shared space on the overstuffed shelves. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to their organization, some books wedged across the top of those that filled every inch of space available.

More books rested in piles on the nightstand, the solid coffee table by the couch, on the top of the dresser. In a corner a comfy leather recliner rested next to a small end table with yet more books. On the floor near the chair sat a well-loved dog bed, bright pink with a motif of little white bones decorating it.   
  
The rest of the room felt like the Pakhan, set dressing to meet the expectations of others, even in this supposedly private space, but the books and the dog bed, those were _Victor._ Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

He considered, for just a moment, setting himself up in the chair. But, ultimately, it didn’t work for him plans. Too tucked away, easy to miss. So, he grabbed the book resting open on the table and made himself comfortable in the bed.  
  
##

Yuuri shot a quick glance up as the door opened. Victor looked annoyed, mouth pinched and eyes stormy. He wanted to get up, sooth the wrinkle from between Victor’s eyes, ask who he needed to kill to make the man smile again.

But that wasn’t how they played this game, so instead he returned his attention to the book and waited for Victor to notice him. It didn’t take long. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Traces of annoyance clung to the ends of the words, but Yuuri cared more about the choked breathlessness in the middle.

“Reading.” He turned a page with deliberate nonchalance. The book was in Russian. Yuuri spoke Russian fluently. He did not, however, read Cyrillic. Not that Victor needed to know that.

“How’d you get in here?”

Yuuri counted characters on the page, waiting a reasonable time before turning the page. Possible answers danced through his mind, but in the end the most impressive one was the truth. “I used the door, Victor. Now, are you going to stand there asking stupid questions all night, or are you going to lock the door and come over here?”

“I could just shoot you.” Yuuri resisted the urge to laugh, especially when Victor undercut his threat by reaching behind him and locking the door. They both knew what would happen here, and violence—at least that kind of violence—had no place in it.

“You could try, I suppose.” Yuuri re-positioned. He’d chosen his clothes for this carefully, and he knew exactly how the fabric stretched and highlighted his legs and groin. A momentary flash of embarrassment nudge at the edges of his mind, but Yuuri quashed it—he’d had years of training to rid himself of such things--hiding the flicker of hesitation in a slow, sultry look up over the edge of the book. For just a second he wished he had his glasses to enhance the effect. The thought startled him.

Glasses were a weakness he only shared with those he trusted, those he loved. Victor didn’t belong on that list, did he?

Victor moaned, the sound shooting through Yuuri like a current. He focused on the book as he wrangled his wild thoughts into some semblance of order. He wanted Victor. He’d know that, but trust? Love?

He shot a quick glance up again, took in Victor’s lust-blown eyes, the flush on his cheeks, and Yuuri’s heart stuttered and danced in his chest. Eyes back on the book, Yuuri came to a series of revelations. He wanted to stare, to lose himself in Victor’s eyes. He wanted to stay the night and have breakfast with him in the morning, argue over who read which parts of the paper first.

Well fuck.

He felt Victor’s eyes on him, heard the rustle of cloth as he stripped off his coat and gloves. “I’ve had a bad day. The least you could do is look at me.”

_I never want to stop looking at you._

But he didn’t say that. Not yet. It was far too serious, and right now they were still playing. So, he tossed Victor a smirk. “You haven’t given me much reason to, now have you?” He ran a hand down the inside thigh of his bent leg, drawing Victor’s attention to his growing hardness. Even in the midst of an emotional crisis, Yuuri still wanted Victor so much it hurt.

Victor undressed like some kind of magician, clothes there and then gone in a flash. Yuuri watched in spurts and sputters, careful to never let Victor catch him looking. It got so much harder to pretend when Victor slinked on his hands and knees over the bed, gentle, barely there kisses landing on Yuuri’s ankles, shins, thighs.

Yuuri’s heart flipped over in his chest, but he also saw the need in Victor’s eyes. They’d done this dance before. Yuuri knew how to lead when Victor needed to follow. So, when the taller man reached for Yuuri’s zipper, Yuuri moved, caught his hands. He had them zip-tied in place in seconds. He’d only used one hand, the other still holding the book in position.

“How,” Victor said with an adorable pout in his voice, am I supposed to do this with no hands.” He draped himself across Yuuri’s thighs as he spoke.

So beautiful Yuuri needed a minute to get moisture back in his mouth to speak. He covered by turning another page.“You’re a smart boy, Victor. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”  
  


And he certainly did. They stayed in that room for the rest of the day and most of the next. Yuuri couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d have rather been.


End file.
